


Both Alike In Dignity

by orphan_account



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deaton is a shaman (he's also Friar Lawrence), Humans vs. Werewolves, Knotting, M/M, Mates are predestined, Romeo and Juliet AU, War, set in an unspecified time and place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the child of King Gerard Argent's eldest daughter and General John Stilinski, Prince Stiles is being raised to take up his father's position. He spends his days training and studying in the royal compound alongside his cousin Crown Princess Allison. Though Prince Stiles may seem awkward and eccentric, he takes his duty seriously and fully intends to take up his father's mantel, until one night of caprice at Lady Lydia Martin's masked ball begins his monumental fall from grace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know Scott/Allison is probably the obvious choice for a Romeo and Juliet AU (and I was tempted, if for no other reason than Stiles would make a bad ass Mercrutio) but this Sterek plot just wouldn't get out of my head. This is my first contribution to the Teen Wolf fandom so I hope I do okay. Thanks for reading.

Stiles stood alone in the Argent family's personal armoury examining the gifts he had been presented with on his 16th birthday. A suit of silver field armour and a heavy two-handed sword deeply engraved with the motto of his mother's house _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent._ he knew the engraving was deep to aid in the collection of wolf's bane. All soldiers doused their swords before going into battle. 

Frankly, Stiles wasn't much of a fighter. He enjoyed the sport of it well enough, but he didn't excel at it like the other knights, which was a problem when one was expected to command an army, as Sword-master Finstock was constantly reminding him. His saving grace was that he proved excellent at strategy and tactics, which was the most important skill for a leader. Nevertheless, he knew that the people wanted to see him do well on the field. They needed to see him as a competent warrior like his father, something he was presently failing spectacularly at. 

He wanted to do his father proud, but Stiles felt more at home in the library than anywhere else. He spent his time pouring over the extensive volumes the Argent family had collected on Lycanthropy and Werewolf society over the years. Unfortunately, their research focused almost solely on what was militarily beneficial. 

He would have preferred information on Werewolf values and beliefs, the inner workings of their society, but then Stiles had always thought he would be a better diplomat than a general. There was no call for diplomats anymore, however, and the records kept by those from years ago offered him only basic information like how one should show deference when beginning negotiations. 

When humans across the country had rallied behind the Argents to establish a single royal line, the wolf packs had been forced to abandon a centuries old policy of isolation to band together. They still functioned as independent packs, but the Alpha of every lesser pack owed allegiance to the Alpha of the Hale pack. The Hales had won their dominance through the strength of their numbers, their ancient lineage, and most importantly, their experience with the Argents. The Argents and Hales had a bitter feud spanning so far back no one could honestly recount how it had begun and Stiles doubted that the legends passed down held any truth. 

Stiles was born in an extraordinary time when the Hales and Argents had kept a tenuous peace for the first time in centuries. It was thanks to the efforts of Stiles's Uncle Chris to temper the wrath of his father. He had drawn up a treaty in the form of a code which was to be strictly adhered to by both wolves and humans in order to maintain peace. The code stated that no wolf would be hunted who did not spill human blood, and in exchange the Hales promised to impose order on the packs that followed them to prevent attacks on human settlements.

The code was to be renewed every two years, and during the times of peace it was the only contact humans and werewolves had. On rotation the renewal ceremonies would be either held in the royal compound at Beacon Hills, or in the surrounding wilds which the Hale pack called home. Stiles knew from his father's stories that the Hales lived in a great fortress surrounded by dense, pathless forest which made the journey difficult for the human envoy. If peace had held, Stiles would've accompanied the next human envoy to renew the code now that he was sixteen. As a child, he had looked forward to that day. He was curious then, he was curious now, a good skill for a scholar but perhaps a dangerous one for a soldier. 

Stiles had been fascinated by the ceremonies when the Hales would arrive. The reception was always tense and the Hales left immediately after the code's renewal, but Stiles always spied on the proceedings. He was intrigued by everything about the wolves from their unnatural grace, their vibrant glowing eyes, and their manner of dress which was equally refined as what the humans wore but made of different materials. They dressed in clothes of hide and fur, their jewellery was of polished bone rather than the precious metal and jewels favoured by human nobility. They did not seem barbaric, as he had been taught, but certainly unpretentious and very direct. He couldn't be sure if their abruptness was born from a love of efficiency, or their hatred of being in human halls...likely both. 

He remembered the last time he had seen the Hales, the Alpha pair had brought their two eldest children to learn the ceremony. He had been 8 years old then, and allowed to observe next to his father but only after swearing on his life he'd remain silent. He had seen the Alpha pair before while spying on previous ceremonies, but this was the first time he'd seen their children. They were both tall, with dark hair and unnaturally vibrant blue eyes. Stiles had heard that werewolves could retract their fangs and claws and change their eyes so that they appeared entirely human (an entire branch of secret police were dedicated to ensuring that no wolves were able to infiltrate their ranks masquerading as humans) but Stiles had never seen it personally. 

He had watched his father regard the girl, Laura, warily. She was 18, the eldest, and being groomed to be the next Alpha. Stiles remembered finding her beautiful, if fierce. She wore a necklace of bear claws and a leather bodice, embroidered with the Hale's triskele emblem on the front and with a fine collar of fur. She wore pants, unheard of among human women, that seemed to be made of deerskin. Her boots were of polished leather laced with cord up to the knee.  
Stiles was shocked to find her brother Derek, 16, was shirtless though he supposed if he was resistant to the cold and had skin that could mend itself back together after the deepest wounds then he wouldn't require armour either. He had a prominent triskele tattoo on his back. Even then, little as he was, Stiles was jealous. His father would never let him get a tattoo. He probably wasn't ever going to have muscles like that either, but that was beside the point. 

He couldn't see how they were barbaric. Different, certainly, very different, but they conducted themselves with honour and poise throughout the proceedings. Their clothes were strange, but they showed detail and care...far from the hastily wrapped hide loincloths still bloody from a recently skinned kill that the soldiers liked to describe the wolves as wearing. 

That day was the last that the Hales would come peacefully to renew the code. Only two years later, about 6 months before the renewal would take place again, Stiles' Aunt Kate used the cover of diplomatic visit to the Hales (which she had been making frequently) as a cover for a direct assault on the Hale pack in their own home. He had been with his mother, who had recently fallen ill, when he saw the smoke rising up from the forest. The attack was a failure, though many of Kate's men died, as well as many members of the Hale pack, but the majority survived to rebuild and to wage war. 

Kate escaped and managed to return home. She was publicly chastised for her initiative, but Stiles knew his father had suspicions that King Gerard had authorized the assault, and his father was not usually wrong. The Hales would not be satisfied with anything less than Kate's blood, however, and Gerard refused them. 

So peace ended and Stiles' mother's illness progressed. It was jarring, to watch her slowly waste away in a world where death was usually quick and brutal. It was a strange reminder that mortality was not a man (or wolf) made thing, easy to forget when nearly every reported death was a casualty of war and old age was a luxury. 

Since Kate's failed attack, his life had been cleaved in two...10 years of peace, 6 years of war, and he only saw war in the future. They fought in the streets and they fought in the forests, an endless cycle of death, one that Stiles would be expected to perpetuate. 

He hoped for peace but saw little chance of it so long as his family refused to surrender Kate to the Hale pack's justice. Though he carried royal blood, he was not meant to govern. Traditionally the Argent's were led by a Queen, but a King could rule for a time upon his wife's death, as Stiles' grandfather Gerard was doing now, waiting until Allison was old enough to pass the crown to her. He favoured her over her mother, Victoria, who was not of Argent blood and though he would've passed it to his daughter Kate, the people would not support her. 

He loved his cousin the crown princess, but he saw her devotion to their disgraced aunt and held little hope that Allison would ever support a policy of reconciliation with the wolves. He prayed he was wrong, because if commanded he would do his duty. He had to protect his people. They were weaker in strength and numbers, only his father's leadership kept them from falling. He had no power to influence policy, he only had responsibilities...to his father, his family, and his species.

He called for a servant to help him put on his armour. To celebrate his birthday they would be going on parade through some of the villages closest to the forest, and in the evening there would be a feast. 

*

 

Stiles's father was away, on the northern front, observing troops. In his stead, Stiles was accompanied by his uncle and, to his chagrin, his Aunt Kate. Gerard insisted it would be a good way for her to continue rebuilding her image among the people. She was beautiful and superficially charming, meeting her in person did much to sway the hear's of the populace and make them forget she was responsible for destroying their fragile peace. 

A tour with his aunt, uncle, and a contingent of hunters was not how he wanted to spend his birthday but he knew this was a necessary duty to perform. The people suffered the most during the war, especially those here on the border of the forest. A royal parade showed them their leaders remembered them, and gave them a brief distraction from the harsh realities of their life. 

Stiles felt like an ass in his shining new armour as he tried to look cool and composed while riding next to his uncle on horseback. 

They were nearing the final village on their tour, and soon they would be back to the compound to feast and he would be among friends. Scott was coming home from the northern front today and would have news from Stiles' father, and he would be able to see Lady Lydia, so there would be a good end to the long day he was having. 

“Is it really a good idea to be seen in expensive fucking armour when the villagers are on war rations?” Stiles shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “I think if I was in their place I'd ask 'Who is that royal ponce? Let's throw a rock at him and sell his boots for cheese'.”

“Cheese doesn't protect these people from the savage beasts on their doorstep, honey.” His aunt said with one of her half-smiles. “we do.” 

Kate rode beside him in a red gown and a custom-made steel breastplate. She wore a sword at her hip and kept her skirts hiked to reveal tall leather boots, with a dagger tucked in each. 

Chris nodded. “Image goes a long way, Stiles. That armour is a symbol of our nation's defense. It's not like you're wearing a gilded cloak. Expensive it may be, but practical, it should give the people comfort to see their future general properly equipped.”

“Somethings wrong...” Kate whispered as they approached the village. There was no fanfare or welcoming party and as they approached the town center they could hear the sounds of fighting. 

The villagers were locked inside their homes peering out of windows as a group of wolves fought the town guard in the streets. There were only three wolves. They were young and outnumbered but they had the guardsmen on the defensive. 

There was a blur of movement from the direction of the forest as they approached, a blond wolf threw himself between the wolves and the guardsmen they were advancing on. 

"Stop! You idiots! You don't know what you're doing! A royal envoy is coming, the Alpha would not..."

“The envoy is here.” Chris stated as they dismounted, weapons drawn. The guards held their position as the wolves stood down, realizing they were hopelessly outnumbered. 

"Isaac Lahey.” Kate approached the blond wolf, who recoiled with a snarl. “So this is what became of you. You were bitten? You should've done the right thing, sweetie, and faced your death as a man, but don't worry, I can deliver you from your curse."

Stiles knew Isaac, they had trained under Finstock together, but Isaac was sent to active duty before Stiles. He heard he went missing...

Kate had her sword pointed toward Isaac's chest, but the wolf put several feet between them in one leap backwards. 

He turned to Chris. "Stop! I'm trying to make peace! Tell your men to stand down and we'll return to the woods."

Kate laughed. "What? You stand there, claws drawn, and talk of peace? All wolves are monsters, and you a traitor to your former kin! Fight me, you coward!"

She threw herself across the space between them and began trading blows with Isaac, he dodge her sword at every chance, obviously reluctant to go on the offensive. He had slashed into her sword arm with his claws and she had cut him across his bare chest, wolf's bane festering in the wound and slowly sapping him of his strength. 

“Quick!” Chris grabbed the captain of the guard as Stiles was drawn into combat with one of the wolves. “Have they killed? Why were they here, alone, without an alpha?”

“Some boys from the town, m'lord,” the guard spoke quickly. “recently turned after the last raid. Their former family called us when they came back, looking for shelter...”

Chris released the man and spoke loudly, his voice commanding enough to halt the proceedings.  
"Stop! Kate! This isn't the way things should be done. They're barely cubs. This isn't an honourable fight. Let them go. If their Alpha wants to send a challenge, he will, and we'll meet in battle as we should. Not here, surrounded by civilians, pitting freshly turned pups against our best hunters."

One of the royal guard stood back from one of wolves that he had on his back, ready to run through. The wolf looked towards Chris and Stiles, eyes blazing. “I only wanted to see my mother! They had no right...”

Chris shook his head, giving the wolf a hard look. "You have no kin among humankind anymore. Go, and know if you enter the village again your lives will be forfeit."

Stiles watched, stomach churning, as his Isaac exchanged some silent communication with his packmates before they made a hasty retreat. He didn't even spare Stiles a glance, he was barely recognizable as the timid youth Stiles once knew. 

Kate was furious. “That was stupid, Chris! Amateurish! There's no room for your puffed-up morals in war. Those pups are going to grow up to be killers. You know it as well as I do! If they come back when we're not here...”

“The town guard will dispatch them.” Chris countered, knowing his sister couldn't continue to challenge him without insulting the competency of the guard. 

“So....” Stiles rubbed the back of his head. “Shall we get back on schedule? Everybody alive? Don't I have babies to kiss or some shit?”

“Language, Stiles.” His uncle reprimanded him. “You're representing the royal family, don't be so vulgar, and get on your horse. Distribute some gold to repair any damage from the fight, and let's move on. These people have had a trying enough day.”

Stiles couldn't help but watch the forest as he climbed back into the saddle. So Isaac had taken refugee with the Hale pack after being bitten in battle? That meant they didn't kill the soldiers who were accidentally turned...was it just for the practical purpose of growing their numbers? Not for the first time he wondered what life was really like in the shade of the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

Isaac guided the boys from the village back into the woods and they travel together for a way before parting. They didn't actually belong to the Hale pack directly, as Isaac did, but to one of the packs living in the surrounding area. Isaac assumed their alpha must have bitten them to strengthen his pack's numbers. He himself had been on patrol, scenting the border of the forest for disturbances, when he'd caught their distress in the wind. It was a foolish mistake, trying to return to their human families, but it wasn't so severe that they would need to answer to the Hale alphas directly. Their own alpha would be left responsible for disciplining them. Nevertheless, Isaac would have describe the event to his own alphas, David and Talia Hale, as part of his reports. 

Kate was right about one thing, Isaac thought, he _was_ a traitor. Unlike those boys from the village he hadn't been bitten accidentally or deliberately against his will as a consequence of the war. He had deserted and gone into Hale territory to ask for the bite. 

Why? He was miserable in his human life. He resented his inescapable role as a soldier. He was tired of the constant propaganda and he had nothing and no one at home worth fighting for. He thought that if he was going to die then he might as well try things on the other side first. 

He figured either the Hales would kill him outright or they'd bite him and the bite would kill him. If he actually lived through it he would either find the happiness that had escaped him among humans was found with the wolves or, well, suicide was always an option. He'd likely die in war anyway. 

The best thing about werewolves was that you couldn't lie to them. They always knew when you were telling the truth, so if you were an honest person you had nothing to fear. All Isaac had to do was be honest when they asked him questions like if he would betray them, if he'd come as a spy, and if he would truly serve the pack's interest. All he had to do was be honest and their trust was his. 

There were no mind games and no concealed emotions. Everything was raw, everything was true, everything was revealed. Not that betrayals and deceptions didn't happen, he wasn't so naïve as to believe that, but as a whole werewolves tended to be rather _blunt_ about their conflicts. 

His heightened senses allowed him to always know where he stood with any member of the pack and that knowledge was comforting. He didn't have to wait, in agonizing anticipation, wondering if his packmates' smiles were false, and if so, when the facade would crumble. He knew they were true, he had that surety, and he had a home. 

Darting through the trees, he came upon the Hale pack's fortress. It was an imposing building constructed of carved and polished wood. It was beautiful to behold as if it had sprung up from the forest itself. He walked between wooden columns, as thick as the tree trunks they been fashioned from, up to the great double doors that led to the interior of the fortress. They bore the Hale's triskele insignia and were so thick and heavy they could only be parted with a wolf's strength. Inside the floor was of smooth stone and overhead the rafters of the great vaulted ceiling were carved with the phases of the moon. 

At the end of the great hall the Hale pack's alpha pair were seated on two carven thrones addressing the concerns of various members of the pack. Before he could approach to make his report, he was jerked off to the side suddenly. He swiveled with a snarl, prepared to berate whoever had interrupted him in the course of doing his duty, when he was faced with alpha-heir Laura. She had a playful smirk on her face, seemingly enjoying his shocked reaction. 

“Relax, Isaac!” She laughed “I just need a favor.” 

“Of course,” he nodded “whatever you need, but first I have to report to your father...” 

“Tell me.” Laura insisted and Isaac felt himself giving in. It was impossible to resist her. “I'll make sure he gets your report. He'll forgive you if he knows you're on an errand from me.” 

“What can I do for you?” 

Laura led him out of the great hall and down one of the long winding hallways until they were in a private courtyard. She spoke with her voice low. “My parents and I have noticed you growing close to Derek. He hasn't been the same since the fire but lately he's grown even more despondent. You're one of the few outside the family he still deigns to spend time with. We would be grateful if you would look in on him, see if there's anything that can be done for him.”

Isaac gaped. “I doubt there's anything I could possibly say or do that would help...not if his family has tried and failed.” 

Laura patted him on the shoulder. “Try. The fact that you're not family, but still pack, may be just what he needs.”

“I'll try.” Isaac promised. 

“Good, now tell me, how was your patrol?” 

*

Derek was twenty miles deep into the forest clawing a tree to shreds to vent his aggression when he smelled Isaac's approach. 

“You alright, Derek?” Isaac asked. 

Derek bristled. The two were close and on rather informal terms after Derek had spoken up in Isaac's defense in favor of him receiving the bite, but Isaac smelled like blood and _Kate_. 

He had first smelled it on him when Isaac returned from patrol. It was the trigger that sent Derek into the rage he was currently trying to exhaust. 

“You smell like her.” Derek admitted, dragging his claws through the already shredded bark. 

Isaac's eyes widened. He obviously hadn't thought about how he would carry Kate's scent after the altercation, and Derek supposed that to most wolves it would be barely noticeable, but he was very sensitive to her smell. It haunted him. 

“I want her dead.” Derek sighed, pulling away from the tree. He couldn't maintain that level of rage. It was toxic. “I won't be able to sleep properly until she is.” 

Honestly, he probably wouldn't be able to sleep properly after she was dead either. 

“We have spies with immediate access to the Argents now.” Isaac tried to console him. “We'll find the opportunity we need to kill her.”

“Leave me, Isaac.” Derek knew he was being brusque and inconsiderate but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd make it up to Isaac later. For now, he just needed to be alone and this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.  
“If you need anything...” Isaac started, but Derek cut him off. 

“No, just go.” He slumped down against the tree. Kate was weighing on his mind and he didn't want anyone near him when he was consumed with such thoughts. 

Isaac darted away among the trees and Derek watched him go with deadened eyes. Everyone had been surprised when he spoke up for Isaac. After all, he had been deceived by humans before and one would think he would be the first to stress caution in dealing with them. It was true, Kate had taught him the value of vigilance...but she'd also taught him to recognize a liar without relying solely on his ears. Isaac spoke plainly in sentences that left no room for doubt or manipulation. Derek knew he was honest and had defended him as such. 

If only he'd had this wisdom before Kate came into his life. 

He thought that she risked so much to be with him. He had seen the things the humans did to those among their ranks that they found to be associating with werewolves, _mates_ especially. Even though they had peace at the time, it was only through a strict policy of isolation and those that broke it were swiftly punished. 

Her visits under the guise of diplomacy (and oh how well she lied through half-truths and omissions) were the perfect cover for their secret meetings. He thought she must've been his mate if she was willing to risk her life to be with him. He had dreamed of what it would be like when he was older and they would admit their love. He imagined winning over the Argents, finally, _truly_ , putting their bitter rivalry behind them and building a world where they could live side by side. He thought his parents would be so proud if he could make that happen. Surely, he had thought, when he was older and they had cubs, both wolf and human alike, even King Gerard would be swayed. He had been so foolish. 

He only realized when fire tore through the halls of their home that Kate had never intended for any of that to happen or for him to even live long enough for it to be a possibility. The romantic he was died that day, alongside his little sisters and many of his cousins, aunts, and uncles. All he had now were bitter memories and his Uncle Peter's disfigured, slowly healing body to remind him of what his idiocy had done. 

If he'd just listened to his instincts, instead of being overeager for a mate he would've known she was false. Now he had no interest in finding his mate. He knew that eventually they would be drawn together because while it was possible for mates not to find one another, it was rare. He just hoped that when he did truly feel that irresistible pull that he would find a wolf waiting for him and not a human. 

*

Upon his return, Stiles was accosted by Scott and Allison and dragged into the escape tunnels connected to his bedroom before he could say a word. 

He brushed himself off and looked at them with raised eyebrows. “First of all starting with _Hello_ would be preferable to grabbing me by both arms. Second, how are you two alone _in a bedroom_ \- my bedroom I might add – and Scott, welcome back.” 

“We're good at sneaking around.” Allison gave him a small smile. “You know that.”

“In my bedroom?” Stiles made a disgusted face.  
“We weren't...”

“He just got back from the front lines and this is probably the first chance you've had to be alone. _The hell you weren't._ ” 

Twin blushes spreading across Scott and Allison's cheeks confirmed that Stiles would need to call someone to change his bedding before he went to sleep that night. 

Scott face suddenly became serious. “This isn't actually the first chance we've had to be alone.”

“I don't need details.”

“ _Stiles_.” Something in Scott's tone grabbed Stiles' attention and he immediately focused. “I'm trying to tell you something serious.”

Allison spoke in a whisper “Scott was _bitten_ , Stiles. We had to bring you into the escape tunnels to tell you. It's the only place we can be sure of not being overheard.” 

Stiles froze. Surviving the bite was a sentence worse than death. Soldiers who were bitten and didn't die or flee were usually experimented on before being put to death. It was a policy that both Allison and Stiles personally reviled, but for the moment could do nothing about. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't know.” Scott shook his head. “I don't want to leave Allison and my mother. I don't want to flee into the wilds and just hope I get taken in by some pack. My loyalty is here.”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied “but _here_ is the most dangerous place you could be right now.”

“I can't leave.” Scott insisted “If I disappear everyone will know what happened and I'll never be able to come back.”

“Do you seriously think you can keep this a secret forever?” 

Scott and Allison shared a look. 

“Listen Stiles,” Allison said “we know there's little hope. All we're saying is think about it, okay? If the three of us put our heads together I know we can come up with a plan.”

“Of course.” Stiles rushed to reply. “It's not even a question. Just...be careful for now. We'll figure something out as soon as possible.” 

Stiles had no idea what they were going to do but he wouldn't abandon Scott. 

“Stick close to me,” he advised Scott. “I'll try to help you if something triggers the change, and I know this will be hard, but stay away from Allison.”

“What?” Scott demanded and Allison frowned. 

“Your relationship was risky enough when you were both human.” Stiles crossed his arms. “You can't risk drawing any attention to yourself, Scott. You guys have _got_ to avoid the midnight rendezvous, okay?”  
Scott started to protest but Allison cut him off. “He's right, Scott. It won't be easy, but he's right.”

“No!” Scott wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I just got home.” 

Stiles averted his eyes as Allison leaned in to give Scott a kiss. 

“We'll make it work.” She promised under her breath. 

Scott finally managed to pull his eyes away from Allison's face to draw a letter out of his coat. 

“Here, Stiles, news from your father.” Scott cleared his throat. “I...uh, I suggest you read it before your birthday feast. 

Stiles took the letter and ripped it open. He skimmed the contents (which he would read and cherish later in the privacy of his room) to look for what was so pressing that Scott would urge him to read it immediately. 

He found it a few paragraphs from the end of the letter. In a few neat sentences his father informed him that his childhood betrothal to Lady Erica Reyes, previously broken, had been renegotiated and he was now engaged. His father told him the wedding plans would be finalized in a few months time when he returned from battle. 

Stiles felt sick to his stomach. It wasn't just that his dreams of marrying Lydia Martin (Far-fetched as they were. Even his royal status couldn't sway her. He suspected she had plans to overthrow them all anyway.) but that he realized he most certainly was _not_ ready for marriage. Especially not to someone he hadn't seen in years. Suddenly her plans to attend his birthday feast made so much more sense. He had wondered why she would make the trip to the capital to attend when she never had before. 

“Shit,” Stiles swore. “I have to see her tonight and she couldn't come tell me this herself?”

“Would you really rather learn about it that way?” Allison asked softly. “At least now it won't be a complete surprise. You know that you'll have to meet with her parents and then there will be a formal announcement.”

It certainly wasn't a surprise that Scott shared the knowledge with Allison before telling Stiles. The pair had no secrets between them for long. 

“I thought she was _ill_.” Stiles sighed. “That's why my parents broke off our betrothal in the first place. My father doesn't even mention that in the letter.”

Scott shrugged. “I heard she got better.”

“I'm _engaged_.” Stiles groaned “How can I be engaged?”

“Look on the bright side,” Scott frowned “at least you're not a werewolf having an affair with the crown princess.”

“Right.” Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder. “The situation could be worse. Thanks for the perspective.” 

Perhaps if Scott _did_ flee to the wilds Stiles would join him. 

*

Stiles' birthday feast was not actually as much fun as he'd hoped it would be. The highlight of the night was that his fiancee was gorgeous the downside was that she was far from the sweet bookish girl he remembered. In fact, for all that they were engaged, she didn't seem all that interested in him. She spent most of the night making the rounds of the room re-introducing herself to high society after her years of isolation. 

She did slide one hand up his thigh under the dinner table but if he was honest it felt vaguely threatening. 

To top things off, Lydia spent the entire evening critiquing the décor and the menu. She was actually kinder about it than usual but between Allison encouraging her and Scott's (completely justifiable) melancholy it really was not the relaxing evening he was looking forward to. The roast duck was excellent, at least, but his Aunt kept sending him pointed looks every time she thought he was ignoring decorum to stuff his face. 

“Hmmm.” Lydia surveyed the room. “It's alright. I would've expected more from a _royal_ function.” 

“Well,” Allison smiled “when I'm queen you can be in charge of party planning.”

“A very smart first decision.” Lydia tipped her glass in Allison's direction. “You can see my work in action next month. I'll be hosting a masked ball. I expect you all to be there.”

Stiles bit his lip so as not to groan. Lydia's parties were legendary and if one didn't have a personal aversion to seeing her hanging all over Jackson Whittemore than one would be hard pressed to find a more enjoyable way to spend the evening. Stiles, of course, _did_ have a personal aversion to seeing her hanging all over Jackson Whittemore. 

The soft but strong hand of his new fiancee came to rest on his shoulder reminding him just how useless it was to have that aversion at all. 

He supposed he now had bigger things to worry about than Lydia's constant rejection. 

*

That night Erica snuck out to the stables where a giant of a man was waiting for her. He was a new addition to the royal household but he had a way with the hunting dogs and was easily hired on. Erica titled her head, listening to ensure they were alone before she called to him softly “Boyd!”

He growled the moment she came into sight and crossed the space between them to draw her close.  
He sniffed her neck. When he drew away, it was clear his face was contorted with displeasure. “You reek of that human male.” 

She leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss. “Don't be jealous, love. You know he'll never have me.”

“I'll kill him myself if he gets much closer.” Boyd frowned and clutched her waist. “You're my mate, Erica. I don't want him near you.”

“Don't be like that.” Erica scold. “He's the general's son and I'm the only one who can get close enough to kill him. You only have to tolerate his scent until our wedding night. Once I'm allowed to be alone with him I can kill him and be done with this.” 

“I still don't like it.” Boyd ran his hands through her golden hair. “Do you have news for me to report to our alphas?” 

“Yes,” She nodded “Lady Lydia Martin is throwing a masked ball. I overheard Kate Argent saying she plans to attend. Probably in an attempt to regain public favor. I can get extra invitations. The disguises would provide a perfect opportunity for us to sneak in a team to attempt an assassination.”

“If the alphas approve the move.” Boyd reminded her gently, knowing his mate tended to get carried away with her plans. Erica rolled her eyes and gave him a devious smile. “Of course, obviously only if the alphas approve.” 

She ran her hands down his broad chest. It had been too long since they were allowed to see one another. They hadn't been together since she left her country home for the capital and Boyd followed sometime later to join her as a spy for the Hales. 

She mastered herself with some difficulty and returned to business. “You also need to tell them this. I know I scented a strange wolf at dinner tonight but I couldn't discern who. I'll keep trying to sniff him out.”

“Not one of ours?”

“No,” She shook her head “I was the only member of the Hale pack there and this one smelled freshly bitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Coming up in the next chapter:** Allison and Stiles try to keep Scott's werewolf status hidden. Stiles gets the feeling his fiancee is keeping something from him. Erica knows there's an unknown werewolf around but she hasn't figured out who. The Hales debate whether or not to make a move on Kate during the Martin's masked ball.


End file.
